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Nine months later
Suna
My skin was on fire, and the cool tiles were a balm to my flustered soul.
“Enzo, they’ll know if we’re not back before the panna cotta,” I panted, even as I let my husband guide my hands against the wall.
“There’s only one dessert I’m hungry for, and it isn’t fucking cooked cream,” Vincenzo growled in my ear, his hands on my waist. “Now, spread em,” he said crudely, his foot nudging my legs apart. His hands gathered up the thin material of my dress, and the cool air of the bathroom whispered across my bare thighs. “Holy fuck, Suna. Are you going commando under here?”
“What does it look like?” I teased him, wriggling my behind when he had my skirt held in a bunch at my waist.
Vincenzo gripped plump handfuls of my behind and squeezed before sinking to his knees on the floor behind me. “Tesora, you kill me.”
“That’s the idea,” I muttered and bit down a cry as his hands traveled up my bare legs.
“I see you’re taking the slow approach. A million minor heart attacks every day until you finish me. It’s inventive, I’ll give you that. They’ll never suspect you,” he said, dragging his stubbled jaw up the inside of my thigh.
He pressed his face between my cheeks, right where I needed him, and I couldn’t speak anymore. His hot tongue wove a path through my folds, wet and ready for him, from back to front, again and again. There was nowhere this man hadn’t couched me, hadn’t licked, bitten, and sucked. My body was his, and I loved giving it to him to play with multiple times a day.
I was rising quickly. Outside, I could vaguely hear the sounds of dinner continuing and the occasional laughs and cries of Elena and Rafe’s daughter as she was passed around the boisterous Luciano family. At the thought, a deep kick pulsed in my belly.
I placed a hand on my swollen stomach. I was seven months along, and the kicks were coming more frequently now. It was a boy, and Mauro and Vincenzo were pleased the job of heir creation was done. At least, that’s what Vincenzo told his father. I knew he secretly wanted a girl, and I was sure he wouldn’t stop trying until he got a little princess to spoil.
His blunt fingers probing at my hole brought me back to the present. My delinquent husband had decided that eating out his seven-month pregnant wife in the bathroom of his father’s home, with his entire family in the next room, was normal behavior.
His fingers pushed inside me, two slipping into my wet entrance easily, while his thumb pressed further back, gently applying pressure before popping inside. I moaned as his tongue continued to work on me. He had my knee hooked around his shoulder now, so he could position his face directly under me, and fuck, the man was gifted. He filled me in every place, and my hips moved frantically against his sinfully good pressure. I shoved a hand in my mouth to quiet my cries as I came, my whole body undulating with pleasure. I was shaking when I finished.
Vincenzo rose and cupped my chin, tugging my hair to turn my head. He held me captive as he devoured my mouth, making me taste myself on his lips. “Let’s go, or we’ll miss the panna cotta.” He pulled away with reluctance.
“What about you?” I eyed him, glancing down at the intimidating bulge tenting his slacks.
“Later. I have plans for you, Mrs. Luciano,” he said with the devilish smirk that had first stopped my heart.
He was a devil through and through, but he was mine. He had locked me up but given me the keys to his kingdom, and I was free for the first time in my life. Love locked me in place with this man. Love bound me like silken ropes that couldn’t be undone. If I was born to be a judge, my sentence had been decided the moment we met.
I’d never leave this man, and he’d never let me.
I slid my fingers through his and followed him to dinner.
